


Here's to Many More

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (previous) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Christmas, Fluff, Foster Care, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 00:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13065123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: Harry Styles is nothing special. He grew up int he foster system and now, at eighteen, he's out on his own. He's just sort of... existing.That is until one day, when it's cold and raining and he takes a chance on a coffee shop instead of a forty minute bus ride during rush hour. There, he meets a boy who talks too much and draws friends to him like a magnet.Merry Christmas, here's to many more.





	Here's to Many More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cherrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherrie/gifts).



Harry’s apartment is modest. 

Realtors might call it quaint. 

Harry calls it ‘the only studio apartment in all of England that he could afford’.

He’d known that the transition out of the foster system would be a rough one. People always talked about it - whispers late at night, of brothers and sisters that people had known who were booted out into the real world with nothing but the clothes on his back.

He’d spent eighteen long years hoping and praying for adoption, but that dream just never happened. By the time he was in his teens he had known it was an unrealistic thing to wish for, but it was still something he had kept deep in his heart, like a secret he didn’t dare share. 

He’d been bounced around between foster homes for years. There was a time when he was in primary school that he stayed in the same home for three, almost four years, but that was the longest stretch. Every place since that had been shorter, the families got to know him less and less.

He wondered sometimes just how much of himself there was still to know.

It wasn’t ever his fault, they assured him. It’s just that there were too many kids in the house, or they needed to make room for someone with a more troubled background, or they had finally finalized an adoption and were no longer going to be able to foster as well.

It had been one thing after another for eighteen years, and Harry understood. Of course he did. He wasn’t their child, they weren’t obligated to keep him. He wasn’t a troubled youth or a danger to others or anything that would get him special attention. He was just… Harry.

And on his eighteenth birthday, he’d been given a lease for a studio apartment with a tiny kitchen nook and a bathroom that he had to go through the closet to reach. It’s sparsely furnished, because he’s never taken more than a suitcase and a satchel from house to house, and while it was listed as a “furnished” space, those furnishments only go as far as a bed, a couch and a wardrobe. Harry’s prized possession, his laptop, gets stashed under his couch when he’s not using it, and he generally feels it’s safer to stick it in his satchel when he’s out of the house. His building isn’t in the best part of town, and although he’s met all the neighbors on his floor and they’re all lovely people (except Mr. Frank), he’s not about to risk losing the one thing he owns that’s worth more than a day’s paycheck.

He works long hours cashiering at a bakery in the city center. It’s an forty minute bus ride to get there, and he works every twelve hour shift he can get in the hopes of saving up enough for, well, something. The bakery opens at 6am and closes at 6pm, so at least he never has to work nights.

The bus ride into the city center is pleasant, and easy to nap on because it’s generally pretty empty until the last ten minutes. It’s probably one of the better parts of his day, because sure buses smell a certain way that’s not exactly pleasing but they’ve got air con and heat and sometimes if the driver is a rebel enough they’ll play Radio 2 on their mini speakers and Harry will sit close enough to hear it and pretend he’s in a movie, with background music playing as he rides.

The bakery is nice too, although the register he works has sticky keys and the space bar falls off if he hits it too hard. Moira, his boss, has promised to start teaching him to bake in the new year once orders slow down a little.

So it’s not that he doesn’t have anything going for him. He does, really. He might get to be a baker someday, and that’s a full time position. He’d be a successful adult, instead of one trying to squidge by on the smallest budget imaginable. 

He eats a lot of ramen and eggs.

The thing is, is that it’s December. It’s almost Christmas, or so all the adverts keep telling him. There’s pictures everywhere of families sitting opening presents under the tree, and shop windows advertising “gifts for mum”, “gifts for the spouse”, “gifts for anyone on your list” and sometimes Harry is reminded that he doesn’t have a list. He doesn’t have anyone.

He’s just Harry.

—

It’s six in the evening, Harry has just gotten off of work, and it’s raining.

It’s the gloppy kind of rain that falls in big fat drops and soaks you to the bones immediately. Harry doesn’t have an umbrella - well, he does. But it’s at home, because carrying around an umbrella is a lot of work and looks ridiculous when there isn’t a cloud in the sky.

So it’s raining and cold and dark and Harry doesn’t feel like getting on the bus in the middle of rush hour, where he’ll have to stand for at least half the ride. So after standing under the awning of his now dark bakery and soaking his shoes, he spots a brightly lit building on the other side of the street and makes a run for it.

It’s a coffee shop; one of those little corner places that boasts _fair trade fresh ground coffee_ and _pastries made local_. It looks expensive, Harry thinks, but he can afford something cheap maybe. Just something that’ll mean he can stay until it’s a little later, a little dryer. 

The lighting is warm inside, and all the chairs look soft and plush. It’s not terrifically big, but it’s clearly pretty popular and most of the seats are filled. 

There’s a girl about his own age working the counter, and as Harry walks up and skims the menu she gives him a warm smile.

“First time here?” she asks. “Need any recommendations?”

“Uh,” says Harry. “Yeah, first time. Do you have any… tea?”

Tea is cheap. It also means the chance to add lots of honey to make it sweeter.

“Oh honey, more than we know what to do with.” she points to a display to the right of her counter, a long list of teas ranging from  _ Irish Breakfast  _ to  _ Peach Zinfandel. _

Harry scans down the list. “Um. Can I just have a… Blueberry muffin? That’s a flavour?”

“Sure is,” she says. “Although personally I like the lemon cake better. Each to their own, I suppose.” she rings it into her register and Harry wonders if sometimes her space bar sticks too. “That’s one seventy nine,” she tells him and he fishes the coins out of his back pocket. People at the bakery leave him their change once in a while and he got lucky today; he doesn’t even have to break into the money from his paycheck for the drink.

“Go ahead and take a seat, we’ll find you when it’s ready,” she says. “I’m Perrie, give a shout if you need anything.”

Harry nods, trying to smile back. He wonders if everyone here is as welcoming as Perrie. He definitely doesn’t keep up the cheer for all of a twelve hour shift. Maybe that’s just the sort of person she is, though.

A look around the room shows him a lot of business people in work clothes, and a few groups of students that Harry assumes are from the local university. There’s no free tables but there’s a group of stools at the end of the bar area that are free, and Harry goes for the middle one.

This is the point at quick he starts to wish he had an actual bag with him. He keeps a book of crosswords under the table at work for when he’s on break, but all he has with him now is his wallet and his phone - a flip phone that he got free when signing up for a phone plan. No one besides his work has ever called him on it.

He gets it out anyway, just for something to do with his hands, and starts flipping through the pictures he’s taken. He hopes to have a real camera someday, but all things considered he doesn’t have some half bad shots; a neighbourhood cat sunning herself, an orange someone left in an elevator, a small dead tree at the park that he had watched a group of friends work to toss into the middle of the lake. He’s thinking about maybe printing some of them out and framing them around his flat. 

_ “Blueberry muffin tea?” _

Harry looks up, putting his hand in the air so that the guy holding the teacup can see him. It’s not Perrie, but it’s someone wearing the same blue apron so he assumes they work together. 

The guy glances around a few times before actually spotting Harry. He smiles and starts to bring the tea over. It’s a fancy white teacup with what looks like little strawberries painted around the sides and on the saucer. It reminds Harry of one of the older couples he lived with in secondary who had an extensive teacup collection. 

The teacup is placed in front of him with a flick of the server’s wrist. “Enjoy,” says the man with a smile - a genuine smile that Harry can’t help but return. He’s got blue eyes and feathery hair that looks like it’s either bedhead or quite carefully styled.

He watches the man go back to the counter and exchange words with the girl, Perrie. He sees her laugh and flick him on the nose. It’s cute. Maybe they’re dating. 

The tea, when Harry lifts it to his lips and sips, is delicious. It really does taste like blueberry muffins. 

— 

Harry stayed at the cafe almost two hours, in the end. It felt like settling into a warm bath, the calming and friendly atmosphere and the Christmas music playing low throughout the room. He got used to watching the interactions between Perrie and the boy, and eventually a second girl with thick brown wavy hair that Perrie liked to run her fingers through.

When he left, he felt warm. Even traveling back on the bus alone at the end of the night, he had a sort of glowing happiness inside. It was nice.

The next day he ends up at work as usual, and rings the register for hours upon hours to all sorts of people and for all sorts of baked goods. It’s normal, it’s routine. And somehow, almost without meaning to, he ends up at the cafe again after work.

It’s not raining today, but there’s a haze in the air that makes everything seem grey.  It’s the kind of day that happens around winter time where everything should be looking bright and cheery from all the Christmas lights and festivities approaching, but instead it’s just sort of… dull.

And Harry craves what he felt yesterday: yesterday at the café with the warm lights and the Christmas music and the happy people working there. So he ends up there, and he wasn’t really expecting to, it wasn’t on purpose, it was just something that sort of happened. He didn’t get a whole lot of extra change at work today so he’s paying out of his own pocket, but what is he actually saving money for, really? He might as well have something to brighten his holidays a bit.

There’s a group of girls there today, secondary school students if Harry would hazard a guess. They look like they’ve just begun winter holidays and are living it up. They’re loud and rambunctious and as soon as Harry walks in he’s almost assaulted with a flying straw. Generally, at his own store, these are the kind of kids that he would roll his eyes at and hope that they leave quickly. Today though, at this warm café he feels a bit more giving about the situation.

When he walks up to the counter there’s a new woman there. Not Perry, or the girl with the curls - This one has a name tag that reads Jade, and she looks like the kind of person that would be a bit intimidating on a daily basis but she’s laughing at something the customer ahead of him saying, so she can’t be all that scary.

“Um,” says Harry when he gets to the front of the line. “I’d like tea. I had blueberry yesterday but… is there a certain kind you would recommend?”

He’s throwing caution to the wind really, he knows the blueberry muffin tea yesterday was delicious — but he’s willing to branch out. It seems like the time to try something new.

“Lemon cake,” the girl says promptly. “Definitely. There’s nothing that’ll lift your spirits more than that.”

“It doesn’t seem like the time of year that people need their spirits lifted,” Harry remarks quietly while retrieving coins from his pockets.

“I’d say otherwise,” she argues. “And that’s okay. The holidays can be a little bit difficult for everybody, which is just more reason why in a place like this all we care about is sharing delicious drinks and lots of caffeine.”

Harry smiles. A real smile. It seems to be happening more often these days. “Lemon tea cake it is,” he says.

There’s as little free seating today as there was yesterday, but he finds a spot right in the middle of the busiest section at a little table meant for two, but with only one chair left at it. The other seems to have been pulled up to join the group of young girls who are now having some sort of argument about someone’s boyfriend or girlfriend. Harry can’t tell, although he desperately wants to snoop and find out. 

When the server comes out with his drinks it’s the same one as yesterday. That same feathery haired boy with a bright eyes and the smile. Harry suddenly feels lighter. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but he really was hoping he would show up again. 

“You’re back,” says the server when walks up with the drink. It’s a bright yellow teacup with tiny swallows painted in flight around the brim.

“I am,” says Harry. “You’re back as well.” The moment the words leave his mouth he sort of wants to hit his head on the table. Of course he’s back. He works here.

“I am,” the server says with a laugh. “It turns out if I come here enough I get paid, and that just really works out well for me.” He places the tea cup down almost tenderly on Harry’s table and Harry can smell the strong lemon scent. It’s not like cleaning products, thankfully, but it’s nice and sweet and just a bit sugary.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” says the boy. “Maybe later this week? Do we have a new regular?”

Harry hadn’t actually thought that far in advance. He hadn’t even thought past his bakery shift tomorrow, but the chance to see the boy agan… To interact with someone where his response isn’t ‘ _ your change will be five pence’  _ is appealing, to say the least.

“Probably,” he says. “I don’t see why not?” He smiles, because he’s been doing a lot of that lately and the boys smiles back before leaving.

Harry really wishes he could know the boy’s name.

The tea taste just as good as it smells. Of lemon and sugar and maybe a bit of honey. He drinks it too fast and it warms his insides. It’s delightful.

He might stay just as long this time as he did last time; he’s honestly not paying too much attention to the clock, just in the dark skies outside and the warm atmosphere inside, and the way the girl at the counter, Jade, playfully ruffles the server’s hair almost every time he goes by. Maybe she’s the one dating him? Maybe they’re all friendly. Maybe Harry is just a little interested something that’s not actually any of his business, but who can tell.

— 

The next day Harry doesn’t make it to the cafe. It’s his sixth work day in a row and he’s just so tired that the second the doors of the baker close, all he can think about is crawling into his bed and sleeping until he becomes one with his blankets. It’s one of those days where work feels like it lasts a million years, and he almost nods off onto the shoulder of the person next to him on the bus.

So Harry doesn’t end up in the cafe again until the day after. It’s his day off, and generally he just spends his time at home on his days off, making enough spaghetti bolognese to last a week and watching iPlayer on his computer. Today though, a day like that just seemed dull in comparison to going back into town and having a bit of human interaction.

He brings his satchel with his laptop stored inside, thinks maybe he can spend his time there looking for ebooks to download from the library. 

He watches the houses zoom by from his seat on the bus, spotting sporadic Christmas decorations. He thinks about Christmas, and wonders what he’ll do on Christmas day. Is Christmas day different than any other day if you don’t have anyone to give presents to?

It’s nippy outside, but for once the skies are almost clear. The cafe looks just as warm and inviting as ever, and when Harry opens the door it jangles above him to announce his entrance.

Perrie is the one at the counter again, and Harry spares a thought for his savings as he orders another lemon cake tea. It’s not like he’ll squander everything in his bank account after a few fancy drink purchases, but he’s never sure exactly how much he should have in his account just in case, and so every purchase feels a little risky.

“I hear you told Louis you’re becoming a regular,” Perrie says when she takes his money.

“Louis?” Harry asks, rolling the name around on his tongue. It sounds good. Sounds posh.

“Louis,” Perrie affirms. “The boy who’s so bad at math he’s been relegated to the back to make the drinks, that Louis.”

“I- may have told him something like that,” Harry says, ducking.

“Well good,” Perrie says. “It’s nice to have someone besides those stodgy businessmen and kids who ask for free cups of whipped cream.”

Harry feels the tips of his ears growing red. He feels like Perrie must just be the kind of person that charms naturally, but it still feels nice to hear.

It’s the middle of the day so the cafe is a bit emptier this time, and Harry’s able to snag a big plush chair near the window. It’s supremely comfortable and as he feels himself sinking he has to keep his eyelids from drooping. He could easily fall asleep in this chair. It’s in the sunshine and it’s comfortable and it’s directly in front of the radiator that runs along the wall. Could any spot be more perfect?

He sees when Louis emerges from the back with his cup of tea - this one looks teal, although it’s too far away for Harry to make out the design - he sees Louis stop and laugh with Perrie for a moment. He sees as he pushes a chair into place with his hip as he walks by, and he sees - to his own growing horror - as someone sitting at another table puts their laptop onto their lap, pulling taunt the cable connecting the laptop to the outlet, and Louis walks right into it.

And trips.

And spills the tea right onto Harry.

If this were some sort of romantic comedy, the tea would miss Harry completely, and Louis would end up sprawled in his lap. They might fall in love. It would be a story for their grandchildren someday.

This isn’t what happens though. Because Louis is just a bit too far away and the tea ends up right on Harry’s lap, the teacup shattering into pieces after hitting an arm of the chair. Louis doesn’t end up on his lap, but he does make contact with him - by falling onto his knees and going headfirst right into Harry’s knees.

“Fuck,” says Louis, rolling onto his side and away Harry’s knees.

“Oh no,” says Harry.

It feels like he’s been drenched in cold water, metaphorically. Physically, though, it  _ really _ feels as though he’s been drenched in hot water. It’s painful.

“Shit shit shit,” he chants, pulling his shirt away from his torso and watching it steam. A bit of water gets on his hands, which is how he learns he was cut by the jagged bits of the broken teacup, because now his hands burn in a whole different way. “Shit shit shit.”

“Oh  _ fuck,” _ Louis moans as he sits up, one hand to his nose, and gets a look at Harry. “Oh bloody fucking  _ hell!” _

“Louis!” Perrie yells, and Harry sees her running over out of the corner of his eye as he continues to hold his shirt away from his torso and endure the burning of the tea seeping into his jeans. “Language! There are children here!”

Are there children here? Harry’s got a bit else on his mind but he doesn’t remember children being here.

‘There’s  _ not,”  _ says Louis and oh, there must not be then. “Pez, fuck- can you get ice?”

Perrie seems to be only just taking in the state of Harry and his clothes. “Oh no, that’s not good,” she says.

“Pez? Ice?”

“Yes alright, hold on.”

Louis puts a hand on the arm of Harry’s chair not covered in teacup bits. “Where do you live?” he asks.

“What?” says Harry.

“Where do you live? How far away?”

“Westham Bridge,” Harry says, “the road just past the river on the east side of town.

“Shit that’s forever away,” Louis says. “Come on then, get up. You’re coming to my place.”

“I’m what?” Harry asks, frowning up at Louis. Is this a fever dream brought on by the tea? “Why?”

“Because you’re a mess and you need out of those clothes and probably about fifty plasters and it’s all my fault,” Louis says. “Come on, my car’s out back.”

He holds his hand out and honestly Harry just can’t think of a reason not to take it. He grabs his satchel (thankfully tea-free) and takes his hand, hoisting himself off of the chair.

A lot of people are staring, but the tea on his clothes is distracting enough for Harry to not dwell on it.

“I’ve got ice!” Perrie announces, running over to them.

“Thanks love,” Louis takes it from her. “Can you text Grimmy and ask him to come in early? I’m taking this one back to my place to fix him up.”

Perrie looks at Harry, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re okay with this?”

Harry shrugs. He’s been in the same routine for almost a year now, and this week it feels like everything has been flipped on its head. Why not make everything just a bit crazier?

“Fine,” Perrie says. “But you owe me one. I try not to work with Grimmy and you know it.”

“He threw up on your shoes  _ one time,” _ Louis says. “I think you can forgive him eventually.”

Perrie starts to argue something else but Louis is always pulling Harry by the wrist toward the entrance. “Bye Pez! Thank you!”

Harry is led around the side of the building to a small parking area that must belong to employees of the businesses along the street. 

“It’s a little run down, but runs just fine,” Louis says, pointing to an old silver car in the corner. “Ignore the dents, those are from teaching my roommate to drive. I didn’t actually hit anything.

Harry nods, because he feels like he should say something but also the sensation of the cooling tea sticking to his thighs and stomach is making him feel almost queasy.

Louis unlocks the car and motions Harry to the front passenger seat. “I only live about five minutes away. Don’t worry about getting anything wet or whatever, this is totally my fault anyway. Tripping over a charging cord is such a newbie mistake to make. 

Louis’s car moves like an elephant through a mouse den - fast and jerkily. He’s got a radio station on that’s blasting Christmas music, and he’s singing along loud and off-key. It’s an experience.

“I’m just around the corner,” Louis says. “Don’t worry, if you can’t fit into anything I own, I’ve got two roommate to filch clothing from. Something’s sure to fit that lanky frame.”

“I’m not lanky,” Harry argues. “You’re short.”

“You sure you want to say that to the guy driving the car?” Louis asks, but Harry can tell that he’s joking. “Listen, this is horribly embarrassing but I don’t even know your name. What do I introduce you as to my roommates?”

“Harry,” says Harry. “Styles.”

Louis laughs. “Are you giving me a fake name? Am I that creepy and untrustworthy of an individual that you feel the need to give me a pseudonym?”

“No, that’s my real name!” Harry argues. It’s true he’s never met anyone else with the last name Styles, but they must be out there somewhere. “You’re one to talk, isn’t Louis a French name?”

“Touche,” says Louis. “I actually made everyone call me ‘Lewis’ until sixth form. Think it annoyed my mum to no end that I didn’t seem to want the actual name she’d given me.” he chuckles to himself at the thought. “So, Harry Styles then. What brings you to our cafe?”

Harry shrugs. “It was cold,” he says. “And raining. I didn’t want to have to wait for an overcrowded bus in the rain. Nothing interesting.”

“No, that’s  _ very _ interesting,” Louis argues. “So you’re telling me we never would have met if you weren’t looking for ways to escape the rain? What if it was snowing? We wouldn’t be here now!”

“You mean I wouldn’t be covered in tea?” Harry asks. 

“That’s not the point,” Louis says, giving him a dry look. “Anyway, you’re about to  _ not _ be covered with tea. This is my building, come on.”

He’s parked in front of a large block of flats, motioning for Harry to follow him as he gets out. It looks like a pretty nice building, certainly compared to Harry’s own, and the door has a number pad for a code that Louis punches in. It’s fancy. The entrance to Harry’s building doesn’t even have a lock.

“It’s up a few flights, sorry but the lift is almost never working,” Louis says with an apologetic glance. 

Two flights of stairs later, Harry is breathing  _ just _ a little heavily (and trying to pretend like he’s not), and Louis is fishing in his pocket for keys. 

“Here they are! No, that’s a paperclip, hold on… Here they are!” He unlocks the door and motions for Harry to go ahead.

He does, and the inside of the flat looks like the very definition of “lived in”. It’s a living room with a couch and two armchairs, with a television mounted on the wall. There are blankets  _ everywhere _ , throw blankets tossed across the backs of the chairs, shoved into the corners of the couch, making up a nest on the floor along with pillows matching the couch upholstery… There are dishes; plates, cups, bowls stacked on the side tables and the coffee table. There’s also high stacks of textbooks and notebooks shoved into corners and beneath the furniture. It smells faintly of ‘boy’ but also like a pine candle.

“Sorry, our house is a fucking wreck,” Louis says with a shrug. “Finals just ended last week. No one’s had time to clean anything.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry says. He’s about to say something else, but is interrupted by someone he assumes is a roommate walking into the room.

“Louis! Are you home? Why are-” 

It’s a man. He’s got dark hair, dark eyes, a bit of scruff and… nothing but pants on.

“Ah,” says the man. “I see you’re not alone.”

“Zayn, I don’t even want you wearing that little clothing when I  _ am _ alone,” Louis says. “Go get dressed. Make your boyfriend get dressed. I’m sure he’s as naked as you are.”

Zayn shrugs. “Your loss,” he says, turning back to whatever room he came from. “Liam! We have a guest!”

“Sorry about them,” Louis says. “I probably should have expected stuff like this when I checked out the room they were trying to rent out and found them making out in the closet before I had even left.”

Harry tries to keep himself from laughing. He scrunches up his nose but it doesn’t disguise it much.

“Yeah,” says Louis. “I know. But the rent is cheap and at least Liam is courteous enough to wash the furniture whenever they have sex on it. Trust me, the house  _ always _ smells fresh and clean.” He turns to Harry right after he says that with wide eyes. “That was probably way too much information, wasn’t it? Oh god, I’m so sorry. First I spill tea all over you and then I overshare my life while you’re still standing in sopping wet clothing. Come on, let me get you something to change into. And something for those cuts. Oh  _ god _ I just let you sit in my car for like five minutes with cuts all over your arm and I didn’t even think to like, give you the plasters I keep in my trunk!” He starts walking through the house as he’s speaking. “I don’t know, Harry. I’m a mess.”

“Um,” says Harry. “That’s okay?”

Louis sighs. “You’re very nice. You’re lying, but you’re very nice.” He leads Harry into a tiny bathroom and instructs him to sit on the edge of the bath. “Here,” he leans over and starts shuffling through a cabinet under the sink, pulling out a box of Hello Kitty plasters. “Stick these on, I’ll find you something to wear.”

And then he’s gone, and Harry sits on the edge of the bath with Hello Kitty plasters in his hand, feeling like he’s in the eye of a hurricane. Louis is like a wall of noise and excitement, he hasn’t stopped  _ moving _ the entire time Harry’s been in his presence. He’s entrancing, captivating and this brief stint of silence because Louis is  _ moving, being, doing _ in another room feels so jarring in comparison. Harry has only stuck one plaster on by the time Louis is back though, barging through the door and letting it slam into the wall as he carries a startling number of articles of clothing in.

“You’re not my size,” says Louis. “I think you’re Liam’s size, but with Zayn’s waist. Oh god, forget I said the word waist. I’m not weird. Here, it’s a mix between the two of them. They’re wearing more clothes now, by the way. Jeans, at least. Anyway, I’ll. Um. I’ll let you change. I’ll just be out here. In the living room. Bye!”

And he’s gone again, that whirlwind of  _ noise excitement moving being doing _ gone in the blink of an eye. The jarring silence is back and Harry is faced with a pile of clothes that may or may not fit him.

He picks through them and finds some very odd graphic t-shirts, some skinny jeans, some sweatpants, and a single pair of assless chaps that he assumes Louis did not mean to grab.

He has not known Louis that long. But still, he assumes this. 

It ends up that the skinny jeans are a bit  _ too _ skinny for him, and he ends up in a pair of comfortable green and white striped sweatpants, along with a red jumper that’s a bit too long in the arms. He feels ridiculous, but much warmer and less wet.

“Um,” he says when he walks out of the bathroom. Louis is there, on his phone on the floor at the end of the hallway. “Thanks-”

“Oh nice!” Louis says. “You look like an elf!”

Harry looks down at his outfit. He actually does, sort of.

“A Christmas elf,” Louis clarifies. “Now come on, I’m going to wash those clothes. We’ve got a washer in the kitchen! Zayn just called someone to fix it last week, so it’s working and everything.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Harry says. “I can just wait for them to dry, it’s not a big-”

“Harry I spilled tea  _ all over you,” _ Louis tells him sternly. “So I am going to wash your clothes.”

“Okay,” says Harry, because Louis is a whirlwind and Harry is swept up right along with him. 

Louis washes his clothes and makes them tea. Zayn and Liam briefly appear and Harry wonders for only a moment who owns the assless chaps. Louis insists on waiting until his clothes are dry, hanging them over the radiator in the bathroom and then making Harry more tea. It seems to be what Louis does when he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He makes tea. He drinks it fast and he makes some more and Harry’s grows cold because he just likes holding it and sipping. 

Louis talks about everything, and sometimes Harry responds too. He talks about everyone at the cafe and Harry learns that Perrie is dating a guy who comes in and orders earl grey every day, he learns that Jade has a crush on a girl in her chemistry class, he learns that there’s a man named Grimmy who works early hours at a small radio station and works the cafe in the evenings, falling asleep at the till because he sleeps sporadically.

Then Louis talks about movies. He loves movies, he says, and Harry nods. He loves musicals, old ones and new ones, like  _ The Music Man _ and  _ Grease _ and  _ Hairspray _ and  _ Enchanted, _ but he’s also excited about the new  _ Star Wars. _

Harry has seen  _ Star Wars. _ He even remembers a few plot points. Mentioning this means that Louis gasps in excitement and demands to hear Harry’s thoughts. The  _ Star Wars _ talk continues until well after the clothes are dry.

As much as Harry insists that he can get home on his own, Louis insists on driving him. It’s only a twenty minute drive in Louis’s car, and it’s warm and pleasant and Louis talks some more. He pulls up to Harry’s flat and makes a face, but all he says is, “Give me your phone.”

“Um,” says Harry.

“You need my number,” says Louis. “Come on.”

So Harry takes out his flip phone, and he’s a little embarrassed because he  _ knows _ Louis has an iPhone and his flip phone is a relic in comparison but Louis doesn’t comment, just takes it and programs in his number. “You text, right?”

“I think so,” says Harry although he’s not entirely sure. He hasn’t ever  _ tried. _

“You do now,” Louis says as a strange ringtone goes off on Harry’s phone.  _ New Message, _ the blue and white screen on the outside reads.  _ Hi this is louis tomlinson, _ it reads on the inside.

“Huh,” says Harry.

“Goodnight,” says Louis. “Even though it’s the middle of the day. Well, it’s late afternoon. More like evening. Just not really nighttime. Farewell?”

“Farewell,” says Harry, and he laughs. He steps out of the car and smiles and Louis watches him as he walks into his building.

It’s weird. It’s not how today was supposed to go.

It’s nice.

— 

When Harry wakes up, he briefly thinks that yesterday must not have happened. It feels like a weird dream. A good dream, and the kind he would like to keep having, but weird nonetheless. It’s not until he checks his phone and sees two unread texts (he never gets texts, doesn’t even know exactly how to reply to them) that he realises yes, Louis Tomlinson really did take him in and give him tea and lecture him for two hours about ice skating.

_ Louis: I am a mess I can’t believe you sat and listened to me talking about ice skating for TWO HOURS _ _  
_ _ Louis: I owe u. Come by the cafe and ill make u banana tea. Trust me its v good _

Banana tea sounds horrible but Harry ends up at the cafe, as usual, after the end of his shift. Jade doesn’t even get to ask his order before Louis is bursting through the door to the back and punching in an order for banana tea over her shoulder. She slaps him and he laughs and Harry wonders if this is what having a group of friends is like.

Louis delivers the tea and complains that Harry never texted him back. “I’ll keep doing it until you do,” he says. “Be warned.”

And Harry is sufficiently warned, but that doesn’t stop him from jumping a little every time his phone pings over the next week or so. Sometimes Louis will text him late at night, weird musings like  _ What if we had gills but still looked human? _ and  _ Cats or dogs? Who would survive in a fight against a whale? _ and sometimes Louis will text him while Harry is sitting at the cafe and Louis is in the back, supposedly working.  _ It’s too hot because the oven was set too high and all the pumpkin muffins burned _ and  _ Can you believe it’s almost Christmas? _

Harry tries to text back. It’s a learned skill, and using the number pad to type letters is terribly tiring. He gets better though, over time.

_ Harry: No you should really just go to sleep. _

_ Louis: But zayn and liam are watching BATMAN and i CANT just sleep through BATMAN _

_ Harry: You told me you have to work in the morning _

_ Louis: I KNOW FAM. its so tru and i am suffering _

It’s amazing, this friendship. Because it feels natural and it feels like home and Harry feels so overwhelmed because he’s never had a friendship like this before. Someone who’s constantly coming to him and yet doesn’t mind when he doesn’t respond for hours.

It’s especially nice, because despite it being the Christmas season, the weather outside hasn’t shown signs of improving in weeks. It’s drizzling and dreary every day, and when Harry wakes up in the morning he doesn’t even bother to look outside. It’s going to be wet and cold, that’s just how it is.

_ Harry: I have to work in seven hours and I can’t figure out how to put my phone on silent _

_ Louis: Seems like a YOU problem _ __  
_ Louis: Fine, I’ll be quiet. You need your beauty sleep.  _ _  
_ __ Louis: Where do you work again? It’s near the cafe, right? 

_ Harry: La Belle Bakery?  _

_ Louis: WHAT _ __  
_ Louis: THATS LIKE ACROSS THE STREET _ _  
_ __ Louis: Im visiting

_ Harry: They’ll kick you out of you don’t buy anything _

_ Louis: I’ll buy you a cake _

_ Harry: That doesn’t sound like a good plan _

Louis does show up at the bakery. Harry had sort of hoped he would, but he’s still surprised when he walks through the door.

“Hey!” shouts Louis excitedly when he spots Harry at the till. “You really do work here!”

“It’d be a weird thing to lie about,” Harry says. 

“True,” says Louis. “So what’s good? What should I buy?”

Harry only tastes any of the sweets when they’re old enough to be thrown out. “Get the maracon,” he says. 

“Have you tried them?” Louis scans through the different flavours.

“No.”

Louis looks up. “Then why are you recommending them?”

“Because they always look so nice and delicate,” Harry says. “They’re expensive, though. And they’re never thrown out because we always sell out of them, so I haven’t tried one.”

Louis gasps. “Well then you must!” he says. He smacks a five pound note on the table. “As many macarons as this can buy!” he says.

“Two and a half,” says Harry. He cracks a smile when Louis’s mouth falls open.

“That’s robbery,” Louis says. “Fine, one for each of us.”

Harry gets a strawberry one. Louis chooses pistachio.

“A little overrated,” Louis says after popping the whole thing in his mouth. 

Harry savours his. He takes small bites and tastes each bit of sweetness. It’s just as delicate as he had dreamed it would be, and the cream in the middle is light. He looks up and sees Louis watching him.

“I’ll buy you another,” Louis says. “When I’m here next time.”

He’s got a smile that Harry can’t place the emotion behind. But then a customer walks through the door and Harry has to stash the half of the macaron he hasn’t eaten under the till and pretend he hasn’t been slacking off for the last ten minutes.

— 

It’s something that Harry doesn’t often think about. He knows he’s not straight, and he’s known for years. It’s just- it’s a lot, having to maintain a home and get to work and live a life in general. He doesn’t have time to think about boys. They just don’t come up.

Except now, late at night, Harry closes his eyes and thinks about a blue eyed boy. He doesn’t even say his name in his mind, because that makes the crush real. It’s bad, then, because a crush is something that can hurt him. It can get in the way. He doesn’t have a family, and having a crush means attaching himself to someone. He’s not supposed to do that. He’s just Harry.

But he thinks of the boy with the blue eyes.

— 

_ Louis: My sisters are dumb _

_ Harry: Oh really? _

_ Louis: YEAH im at my parents house this weekend because they’re going to be out of town for a bit and MY SISTERS HAVE PAINTED MY OLD ROOM. ITS PINK _

_ Harry: Oh dear _

_ Louis: I KNOW ITS HORRIBLE _ __  
_ Louis: Pink is the colour of aggression you know _ _  
_ __ Louis: I don’t want to sleep in here and wake up aggressive

Harry snorts.

_ Harry: Don’t worry, I have faith in you. You can persevere _

_ Louis: NO I CANT _ __  
_ Louis: But thank u _ _  
_ __ Louis: Do you have sisters? Or bros? I never asked

Harry doesn’t know.

_ Harry: No, I’m alone _

He doesn’t know how to say that he doesn’t know. So he just doesn’t say.

_ Louis: Lucky!!!! _ __  
_ Louis: Sisters r dumb _ _  
_ __ Louis: But i mean they have good hair products

_ Harry: Sounds like a reason to keep them around then _

_ Louis: Maybe _

_ —  _

Sometimes Harry thinks Louis might feel the same way. It’s less than a week until Christmas and he’s sitting in the nearly deserted cafe. It’s quieter than he’s ever seen it before.

“Here,” says Louis, sitting down across from him. “A sampler.”

He’s got four drinks with him, setting them down neatly in a row.

“A what?”

“It’s all our Christmas teas. Gingerbread, chestnut, candy cane, and red apple.”

“Red apple is a Christmas flavour?”

“I suppose so. Just go with it.”

He has Harry taste each one in turn and then demands that he rate them from one to ten. The whole time Harry does this, with Louis’s continual praise, he can sense people watching them.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be back there?” Harry asks, motioning to where Perrie and Grimmy are blatantly staring.

“Oh yeah,” Louis says. “We’re dead, they can survive without me. Now, what if we combined the chestnut and the gingerbread?”

It tastes horrible.

When Louis takes the teacups back after they’ve mixed them all together in various forms, Harry watches him go. Grimmy, who’s standing behind the counter flipping through a magazine, makes eye contact as soon as Louis is through the door and then wanders over.

“Hey,” he says.

“Um,” says Harry. “Hello.”

“He’s totally in love with you,” says Grimmy.

“Oh,” says Harry. “Um.”

“Like, head over heels,” Grimmy says. “All he’s talked about for like three weeks. You.”

“I’m sorry?” Harry tries.

“Don’t be sorry,” Grimmy says. “Just ask him out sometime. The kid sucks at asking people out. He gets nervous. Talks more.”

Louis appears through the door again and pulls a face when he sees Grimmy standing with Harry.

“Shove off, Grimshaw!”

“Oh don’t be dumb, Tomlinson,” Grimmy says.

Louis sticks out his tongue as Grimmy leaves. “Ignore him,” he says.

Harry laughs.

So, sometimes Harry thinks that Louis might feel the same way.

— 

Two days before Christmas, Harry has the day off. He doesn’t go into the cafe. He doesn’t leave his flat. It’s the first time in a long time that he stays home.

He’s different, he thinks. He’s not the same Harry that he was a few months ago. The Harry who was content to just exist, who watched shitty television and fell asleep with nothing to show for his day. 

He wonders when that changed, but he also knows. He knows he’s not the same person and he knows it’s because of someone. A blue eyed boy that he can’t keep pretending he’s not in love with.

He loves Louis Tomlinson.

He thinks maybe he doesn’t know what love is, because he’s read about love, and it sounds like something that lasts forever, that you work at but also that is rewarding. He loved his foster parents, some of them, but that’s not the same thing as this love that he has. This love for Louis.

He wonders if he should do something, if there’s something he  _ can _ do. He’s watched romantic comedies, but is gratingly aware that that’s not what his life is. He’s nothing special, and his life isn’t anything special.

But, maybe it is.

Because maybe the way he had been living life, maybe that’s not what it was supposed to be. He feels different now, waking up with a spark in his mind and his heart. He feels like he has just a bit of direction and purpose. It’s not just Louis. It’s Perrie and Jade and twice it was Zayn and Liam (they were not wearing more clothes the second time). Friendship - because that’s what he has now - friendship has changed him too. He is a different Harry because of all of these people.

He wonders if he is supposed to do something now. To affirm that he is different. That he loves Louis. How is it best to love someone?

— 

_ Louis: I’m aloooooone on Christmass Harry _ __  
_ Louis: it’s so sad _ _  
_ __ Louis: my family went on holiday without me because i had to workkkkk tomorrow

_ Harry: Aww I’m so sorry. I’m alone too! _

_ Louis: wheres your family thats so sAD _ __  
_ Louis: do u miss them too _ __  
_ Louis: you should just  _ __  
_ Louis: stay with me _ __  
_ Louis: liam and zayn left for christmas because they re LOSERTS _ __  
_ Louis: and now im aloooone _ _  
_ __ Louis: I have wine

_ Harry: I can tell! _ _  
_ _ Harry: You’re at home, right? I don’t think you should be driving. _

_ Louis: silly harry. Of course I’m at home everywhere is cloooosed _ _  
_ _ Louis: Im watching rudolf it’s so sad _

Harry grins at his phone because Louis is lovely and Louis is sad because of a deer with a red nose, and Harry wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around Louis and cuddle him while watching dumb Christmas movies.

It feels strange, to want something so freely. Yet he doesn’t find himself regretting it. He wants Louis. And that’s okay.

— 

Harry doesn’t know what he’s doing. He acted on impulse, which is something that would never have occurred to the old Harry. He’s taken an Uber because the bus doesn’t run on Christmas, and he’s standing in front of the door he knows to be Louis’s, and he feels his heart in his throat. This was stupid. This was a horrible plan. All he has is the smallest bit of hope in his heart, that-

The door opens.

“Harry?” asks Louis, one hand still resting on the doorknob. He’s wearing red and green fuzzy pajamas and he looks terribly soft and cozy.

“I don’t have a family,” Harry says. 

Louis stares at him, lips parted. Confused.

“I don’t have a family, and I never have. I don’t miss them, because I don’t know how to miss someone I’ve never known, but I am lonely. And I don’t know what Christmas is supposed to be like when you’re an adult, but now I am one, and my flat is quiet and cold, and I don’t know if I made a horrible mistake coming here, because you’re probably about to facetime your family or open presents or something and I’m just in the way. But it’s Christmas and I needed to ask, because this day feels important even if I can’t understand why. Can- can I make you dinner sometime?”

Louis stays frozen, and Harry feels his heart sink. Maybe Christmas magic isn’t a real thing after all. He’ll have to spend a week’s pay on an Uber back home, and he’s going to spend all of Christmas day wallowing in his apartment-

“Yes,” says Louis.

Harry looks up.

“Of course I will. In fact, I’ll let you make me dinner right now.”

He stands aside, motioning for Harry to come in, but Harry can’t bring his feet to move. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Louis laughs. “Of course! I had my eye on you from the first day you came into the cafe, looking all sad and wet.”

“It was raining!”

“And I wanted to make you happy. Chose our best tea cups for you too. Come on in, Harry. I’ve hoped you’d ask someday.”

Harry smiles. He feels something like a piece of his heard click into place that he didn’t know was dislodged. The feeling of someone saying  _ yes, I want you here even when I’m not required to want you here. _ The feeling of someone selfishly asking for his presence, not looking at him and seeing  _ the next child on the list who needs a home _ , but seeing  _ Harry- just Harry. _

He smiles, and his eyes might be a little wet. He walks through the entranceway, and Louis’s fingers brush his, and it feels purposeful. Like something new.

The door shuts behind them.

The hallway is silent, save for the murmuring sounds of  _ O Holy Night _ that come from inside Louis’s flat, as they begin the holiday together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm [LondonFoginaCup](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com) on tumblr, and if you wanted to be so kind as to reblog the fic post, you can find that [here!](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/170925740334/heres-to-many-more-ladylondonderry)


End file.
